The Fearful Summons

by Denny Martin Flinn

  "The ship that Cousteau fellow was on?"

  "Exactly."

  "Well, it does sound important. How long would you need her for?"

  "A week, only. Two at the outside."

  "I suppose I could do without her for a week. I don't often charter her, but I have on occasion. What would you consider to be a fair price?"

  "Did I mention that the captain here donates any and all profits to the Starship Historical Preservation Society and Intergalactic Geographic Museum? Our holodoc is, what d'ye call it, nonprofit?" Scotty lowered his voice, and tried to be as humble as he could. "Frankly we were hoping you would volunteer the use of the starship. As a philanthropic gesture." Scott looked over the man's shoulder and studied a series of holographs that were set on the marble mantel over the fireplace. "Other contributions have been made by some prominent people you might be familiar with. The Zone Governor. The North American president …" He hoped he had identified the men in the pictures with their arms around Thaylor correctly.

  "Really?" Thaylor said. "I know them!"

  "They want to remain anonymous, of course," Scott said rapidly. "Because of their public positions. So right now we're looking for someone who does not mind the notoriety. To name the expedition after."

  "Name the—?"

  "The Thaylor Expedition, for example. If you would allow us. Public relations needs this sort of thing. Of course, by the time we get back the holodoc will be released Federation-wide, and she'll be terribly famous. You'll probably have people coming from all over the cosmos to take her picture. I hope you would not mind the intrusions."

  "I suppose I could loan her for such a good cause."

  "Excellent. You'll have the gratitude of the entire scientific community. Our crew will be back first thing in the morning."

  Scotty managed to steer the conversation away from the star yacht before the little man could change his mind. He inquired about paintings of ancient lineage that lined the walls of the hallway as they walked back to the front door. At last they were in front of the house again.

  "Good afternoon," Scotty said. "And thank you again for your generosity. We'll take good care of her. And of course, I'll see that you get an advance copy of the holodoc."

  "Hadn't we better sign a contract or something?" Thaylor said.

  "If you like, I'll be glad to." Scotty glanced at Mr. Spock, who was standing patiently if sternly at the edge of the footpath. He drew Thaylor aside. "You do recognize that Mr. Spock is a Vulcan?"

  "Of course. I know they are extremely trustworthy and honest. I was not suggesting anything else. But—"

  "They are sensitive too. A Vulcan's word is better than a contract."

  "Well, yes, all right. I suppose, if you promise to bring her back in good condition, Mr. Spock."

  Scotty saw Spock hesitate for a fraction of a second.

  "Absolutely, Mr. Thaylor. I can promise you that," Spock said.

  Scotty let out his breath. He shook hands with Thaylor, then indicated to him the Vulcan salute. Thaylor understood, and raised his right hand toward Spock, separating his middle and ring fingers. "Ah, live long and prosper," he said.

  Spock returned the greeting, and the men separated.

  As Spock and Scotty walked back down the front path, Thaylor stood in the doorway. He seemed to be thinking of something.

  "Spock … Spock … Wait a minute … Mr. Spock? You know, I believe I have heard of you. You're quite famous for your documentaries, aren't you?"

  "Me?" Spock said. "Oh, no, I do not believe so."

  "He's an extremely modest man, is Mr. Spock," Scotty jumped in. "Likes the crew to get most of the credit. Well, we'll be back first thing in the morning. Good day." As they walked briskly away down the front path, he turned and waved goodbye to the round man in the doorway of the house.

  "I trust," Mr. Spock said thoughtfully as they strode back along Starship's Wharf, "we have not presented too large a falsehood to that man."

  "We haven't," Scotty said with an avuncular smile. "I have, I'm afraid. I was worried if we told him the truth, he'd never loan us his yacht. And as we were at the very end of our hopes for finding something suitable, I thought I had no choice. I hope that's all right. I know that Vulcans never lie. But I do not believe you did."

  "I could hardly get a word in," Spock said.

  "There you are then. Your conscience is clear. As for mine, I'll just have to undertake to bring the Princess back soon in good condition."

  They walked on in silence, Mr. Spock considering the ethics of the situation, and Scotty wondering just what he would find when he went aboard the craft he had managed to borrow. He looked over his shoulder at the Plush Princess. The sun was deep in the sky and an orange glow lit the city.

  "Do ye think she'll actually fly?" Scotty said finally. "She looks a mite fancy for deep space."

  "I put my faith in you, Engineer Scott," Spock said. "If it is any kind of a starship, you can coax it into space. Besides, you heard what the man said: the best of everything."

  "I think he was referring to the seat cushions," Scotty said glumly. "I do not expect a starship like that to have much real power."

  "Well, it is a beginning," Spock said.

  For his part, Scotty was worrying about that tiny starship and how she would handle in deep space. But then, Scotty was used to worrying. And now that he had a starship to worry about, he felt a glow of pride he hadn't felt since he left the Enterprise.

  When the door chime sounded, Kirk wondered who it could be. He looked around his living room, but his crew had reassembled and were all present. He went over and opened the door.

  Barbara O'Marla stood in the doorway. She looked crisp and young in her Starfleet uniform. Before he could speak, she did.

  "I'm going with you."

  "Come in."

  "When you couldn't meet me tonight, I knew you had decided. You can't really intend to go alone. Oh, don't worry. It's not because of our relationship. It's the trip. I've always wanted to go into deep space. I'm not going to miss this chance."

  "Don't stand in the hall. Come in."

  She entered and went into the living area, where she stopped. Kirk's friends were all busy in the room, going over charts and talking quietly but urgently among themselves. Everyone turned and looked at her. There was a considerable silence, and Barbara realized she had assumed that Kirk would be alone in his apartment. She looked around at the curious faces staring at her.

  Kirk closed the door and came in behind her.

  "This is Barbara O'Marla, everybody. A friend of mine. Barbara, this is Mr. Spock. That's Montgomery Scott by the window. This is Mr. Chekov, and that's Uhura." Uhura smiled and waved. "And this old pile of bones is Bones. Dr. McCoy. Don't get too close to him, he's still lethal."

  Everyone said hello. There was another pause. Kirk attempted to fill it.

  "We were just, uh, talking about our mutual friend, Sulu." Another pause. Then it dawned on Barbara.

  "You're the senior crew of the Enterprise," she said to them, and she felt herself blush.

  "That's us, lassie," Scotty chimed.

  "The crew of the Enterprise," she said again, this time, almost in awe. "Wow. Mr. Spock, the science officer. You're half Vulcan. Dr. McCoy, medical officer. Mr. Chekov, you were the navigator. Uhura, communications. And you must be Scotty. I can't believe I'm meeting you all."

  "She's a very bright lassie, Captain," Scotty said from his chair. "Who is she?"

  "I'm sorry for sounding so insipid. It's just that I'm so impressed. Mr. Scott, I was at your lecture on the Klingon Bird-of-Prey warship. It was terrific."

  "I'm very glad someone was listening."

  "I wasn't expecting, I mean, I didn't realize Jim would have company. Excuse me for bursting in."

  "The pleasure is all ours," McCoy said, moving closer. "I was at the Academy only six months ago. Were you at my seminar on alien physiognomy? I don't think so. I would have remembered."

  "You'd have been
lucky to remember your lecture," Scotty said to him. "Now stand back and give the lassie some room. We were just opening a rare, if illegal, bottle of Romulan ale. Part of the loot from years of traveling in space. Perhaps you'd join us in a glass. Or maybe you'd better not. It's contraband, and I see you are in uniform."

  "You better sit over here with me, honey," Uhura said. "They're a bunch of idle hands today, if you know what I mean."

  Kirk lowered his voice. "We were actually discussing some business." He attempted to draw her by the elbow back out of the room. She stood firm, however. Kirk looked around. Everybody was still staring at them.

  "Don't be rude, Jim," McCoy said.

  "I'm afraid I'm the one who's being rude," Barbara said. "I'm sorry for interrupting—"

  "You're not interrupting, Barbara." Kirk again tried to lower his voice and get the conversation down to just the two of them. "But maybe I could call you later."

  "Wait a minute. Oh, my goodness. You're all going to Beta Prometheus!"

  Kirk sighed, and let go of her elbow. Dr. McCoy grinned. Uhura smiled. Scotty raised his glass. Mr. Spock raised one eyebrow.

  "Why don't you come in," Kirk said in a tone of resignation. Then Chekov got up and offered her the armchair he was sitting in. She sat down. And waited.

  "This isn't going to be a Starfleet assignment. This is a private trip. We're all retired. That's what retired people do, they travel. We're just going on a little cruise."

  "To a stinking corner of the galaxy beyond Federation boundaries that features a primitive civilization whose best tourist spot is dilithium crystal mines? Fire your travel agent."

  "All right. We might be able to help. We can't just sit here waiting."

  "I can help. I've been recommended for a Starship mission. I'm just waiting for an opening."

  "Then you'll get it. Be patient."

  "I have some leave time coming. It's not a problem."

  "We don't know what might happen. Deep space isn't always predictable. I can't be responsible for you."

  "You wouldn't say that if we weren't lovers," Barbara said without embarrassment. But Kirk blushed. Barbara went on. "You were responsible for more than four hundred people on your precious Enterprise. I'm qualified, and I'm volunteering. It wouldn't be logical to turn down help. You might need some younger officers aboard. Deep-space navigation has changed a bit in the year since you left Starfleet."

  Chekov looked insulted. Scotty looked depressed. Only Bones smiled.

  "I'm sorry." She softened. "I didn't mean to insult anybody. I know that nobody knows a Starship like you do. But you've got to admit it. You could use me."

  "I'm sure we could, Barbara. And I mean that. You're going to make an outstanding Fleet officer. Why, I'll bet you'll have your own command one day. I'm sure you can look forward to an extraordinary career. But our mission, our trip that is, has nothing to do with Starfleet. As a matter of fact, only today I inquired about going on active status for this emergency, and was politely rebuffed. So you can't go, because you are under orders from Starfleet. I can't be responsible for making you Absent Without Leave, can I? And suppose something were to happen? Suppose we were taken prisoner, or got into some sort of conflict with the captors? As a Starfleet officer, you are a representative of both the Fleet and the United Federation of Planets."

  "Jim, I do have other clothes."

  "It might be dangerous."

  "That's my concern. Have the decency to let me weigh the danger and let me make my own judgment. Again, if we weren't lovers—"

  Kirk sighed. "All right. I won't speak for you. But if you haven't been assigned yet, you can't just run off and head for deep space. Starfleet bureaucracy—"

  "Has given me a leave of absence. I have to attend the funeral of my great-aunt."

  "When did she die?"

  "Any century now, I'm sure. I'm going to get started; she lives a long way from Earth."

  Kirk sensed that he was losing ground when he heard the others chuckle.

  "Frankly, Barbara, you're asking me to compromise both your career and your safety. Leaving aside our, uh, personal relationship, you are a very young officer. Hell, you were only a cadet until a few weeks ago."

  "I can handle the job. You don't have a helmsperson. That was my training. You want to see my scores from the Academy?"

  "Still—"

  "Oh, and one more thing. This." She took a small silver disk out of her pocket.

  "What is it?"

  "The most recent holographic map of the city where the Excelsior crew is being held, on the first planet in the three-planet system Beta Prometheus. It's classified Top Secret, and there's no way any of you could get it without hacking into and illegally searching through the carefully guarded private files of Starfleet's Navigation Group. Which would take you a week at least."

  Startled, Kirk reached for it. But Barbara O'Marla pulled it away.

  "Think of it as my passport."

  There was a long moment of silence. Kirk might never have filled it. But Bones spoke up.

  "Sounds like we could use her, Jim. She's pretty resourceful."

  Day Seven

  BARBARA O'MARLA didn't sleep at all before her first journey to the stars. Growing up on Earth, the closest she had come to interstellar travel was on the Academy simulators. She was every bit as excited about that as she was about her companions for the journey: the most famous crew in the history of the Starfleet. Will I measure up? was her principal thought as she tossed and turned in her bed.

  In his apartment Kirk, too, had been up all night, sitting in the chair that faced the big picture window, watching the port traffic come and go. Is it afool's errand? What can we do that the United Federation of Planets hasn't? And with a luxury tub that is probably not equipped with firepower of any kind?

  Uhura slept, though she tossed and turned continually, hearing in her dreams the harsh Promethean language. Chekov pored over the charts he had collected until long past midnight, then fell into a fitful sleep during which he still saw them floating in his mind.

  McCoy sat with a fifth of Mercury bourbon and nursed it through the night, having reached that age when sleep was nearly unnecessary, and came in any case in short naps. What in the universe is a doctor my age doing, going off into deep space again?

  Scotty paced his room, and sat for long minutes at his televiewport, through which he could see west to the edge of the city and the Plush Princess moored near the cliff. He grumbled about it continually, though in truth he was primarily concerned over its unique design and up-to-date power systems. I've spent my entire professional life in the engine room of the Enterprise and its various progeny. What if at this late stage, the complex engines of the younger designers should prove too complex for my ancient skills? I risk looking like an old fool. Unwilling to go to bed, he slept an hour in a comfortable chair, then woke up and carefully packed his small cache of handheld analysis coders and equipment. Like the others, he packed his uniform, but did not wear it. They would be traveling as civilians, not representing Starfleet. Nor would they have the resources of Starfleet behind them.

  It was this last idea that Spock mulled over for most of his evening. Using a Vulcan relaxation technique, he was able to sleep for a fair part of the night, but the political implications of their coming adventure were never far from his thoughts. Spock tried, logically enough, to project just what their actions would be once they reached Beta Prometheus. Should they check in with Starfleet or Federation officials at Starbase 499, just outside the star system?

  None of the questions the crew pondered in the dark hours were answered for them, but the dawn broke and brought their initial enthusiasm back with it. All were up and ready in minutes. They left their rooms early, and separately made their way through the fog bound streets to Seacliff.

  At 0500 hours Kirk and Scott went aboard the Princess and toured the facilities. Everything seemed tiny to them in comparison to the Constitution-class Enterprise that had been thei
r last home.

  Scotty learned how to program the coordinates in the sleek transporter panel. At 0555 he honed in on the grass only several hundred yards below them, and waited for a request.

  The others arrived before the 0600 rendezvous. Spock was the last to arrive, at precisely 0559, strolling up with his silk duffel bag of personal articles. The others were talking quietly about the look of their transport. It featured a saucer module a fraction of the size of the Enterprise's, perhaps as wide in diameter as fifty yards, and only two stories tall. Its twin engine nacelles were snug underneath the saucer, and the ports were broad and oval, though there were not many of them. (Kirk and Scotty had already discovered that the starship was built for interior privacy more than exterior visual evaluation.) There were no extensions or attached shuttles. It was a clean-lined starship of arching if impractical beauty.

  When Spock arrived, Scotty beamed Kirk down to the grass below the starship.

  "I see we're all here," Kirk said. "This mission—if you wish to call it that—is entirely unconventional, and has not been sanctioned in any way by either Starfleet Command or Federation bureaucracy, to which all of us still owe our allegiance, as officers, albeit decommissioned at the moment. Ms. O'Marla, in particular. You are a newly commissioned officer whose record will not be improved by an unauthorized trip to a tense and politically unstable star system. Let me ask each of you one more time if you wish to exempt yourself from this trip. It may be dangerous. It may even be illegal under Federation law. It will certainly at the least be uncomfortable," he said, glancing at the small star yacht. "Now is your last chance. I'm sure none of us would think the less of any others in any way should one of us decide to stay behind."

  No one responded. Barbara O'Marla, having looked at Kirk without expression during his speech, simply looked away, and up at the star yacht.

  "We're in, Jim. We're all in," McCoy said.

  "All right then. Perhaps Ms. O'Marla, as the newest member of our crew, you would care to give the signal."

  Barbara looked at Kirk uncertainly for a minute, then at once realized what he was offering. She smiled broadly. She glanced around to see that everyone was standing in a fairly tight circle. Then she touched the communicator on her breast, looked up at the star yacht, and said in a clear, young voice, "Beam us up, Scotty!"